KK on the pie-fest that is Sweeney Todd. We know. Bitch.
When will I learn? Just because it is pretty doesn’t mean I have to eat it. (Yes, not everything beautiful must go into my mouth… well, at least, not on a weekday.) Monmouth Street’s Candy Cakes – or Crabby Cakes, depending – features HUGE cupcakes (muffins really) with outer space, pastel-coloured frosting and funny little toppings, like a mass of jelly beans or a big ass piece of fudge. And they are so cute that I had to go eat one (okay, one and a half) knowing that one of those muffins is, like, a dessert for six people in France. (Shopping at Banana Public in LA’s Farmers’ Market last year, a French clerk told me that when she first moved to America, she and her four friends would share one American-sized plate of food because the servings were so HUGE. All the Americans would avoid them, thinking they were poor.)
Now I am so loaded with sugar that I jumped up the curtains when the phone range, got ratty with the person on the phone and now feel slightly hysterical and sleepy and wish my mom was here. But, happily, sugar doesn’t affect me, no no. All those hippies I grew up with who said, ‘White sugar, white death’ – what the hell did those lentil benders know anyway? PAH.
And on the topic of sugar, there is precious little in Sweeney Todd, the Tim Burton film which yes, I saw. You can touch me. Helena Bonham Carter is amazing – I was not a big fan before but now, ya-cha! And Johnny is fab. But lookout below for the sailor what’s in love with Sweeney’s daughter, Jamie Campbell Bower because HELLO. He can sing. He can move. He can make you want to dig around for change in your pocket for a long long time.
Am not a fan of the musical but now I am a huge proponent of the film of the musical. Warning: if you have an aversion to blood or cockroaches – or meat pies for that matter, as I have – then bring a sick bag. Gucci or Prada preferably, but will accept Bill Amberg.